


Unconventional Sweethearts

by seadreams



Category: DCU
Genre: Alpha Tim Drake, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Caught, Established Relationship, Jealousy, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Jason Todd, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 22:56:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19238797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seadreams/pseuds/seadreams
Summary: Newly-mated and inexperienced, Jason and Tim are bound to run into problems in their relationship. When they attend the annual Wayne garden party, things take a turn for the disastrous.(Mostly for Jason.)





	Unconventional Sweethearts

**Author's Note:**

> So this came about as I was writing another Omega!Jason fic as a sort of epilogue, however it didn’t really fit the tone nor Jason’s characterisation in it, so I tweaked it a little and made it its own thing.

As soon as Tim asks him to accompany him to the annual Wayne garden party, Jason turns him down. Ever since they became a mated pair, the family has been trying to arrange a meeting to—well, to what, Jason doesn’t really know, but he does know that _Bruce_ doesn’t entirely approve of their relationship, and he loathes to find out exactly what he has to say about them. 

Tim knows this, he’s borne witness to many a fight between Jason and multiple members of the Wayne pack, himself included, so Jason doesn’t understand why he’s suddenly having a change of heart.

Fortunately, Dick won’t be present, and neither will Damian, both already having given some valid excuses not to come. Unfortunately, this puts more pressure on both Jason and Tim, and also this means that they won’t have Dick, who often acts as a mediator between them and Bruce, to intervene if things go awry. And Jason knows that something always ends up going awry.

Tim only asks him once and _seems_ to accept Jason’s very firm rejection, so of course, he lets down his guard the rest of the day. He’s in the garage at his most vulnerable when Tim decides to strike again, this time armed with a pretty pout and big, sad eyes.

“Come on,” he whines. “Why don’t you want to come? You went to my work party, remember, the one where the office couple had a fight in the middle of the dancefloor?”

Jason does remember that party, and he does remember that fight being very entertaining. He hadn’t known betas could be so ruthless. However, the night hadn’t been all amusing dramatics and spectacles—“Yes, and need I remind you what happened when I came?”—rather, it had been spoilt by the minor preoccupation some of Tim’s workmates had developed with Jason.

He thinks about it more often than he would like. They hadn’t believed it when Jason said he was an omega, and when they’d gone to Tim and he confirmed it, they wouldn’t stop staring the whole night. Jason could feel their eyes boring holes in him as he danced with Tim, and he had to deal with hearing them talk about him behind his back, and a few of the braver ones coming up to question him about how he feels being an omega, how he feels about Tim being his alpha, how he feels about being so big, so tall, so _alpha-like_ —in short, it was an experience Jason would rather not repeat.

“Those were my workmates,” Tim answers. “They’re not the best representation of normal people at a party.”

“And Bruce and all his friends are?” Jason shoots back. Tim makes a face. “Look, I just don’t like you showing me off like I’m some new— _car_ or something.”

“I’m not trying to show you off, you’re not my trophy wife, Jason.”

“No, but I’m an omega, and to them that’s the same thing.”

Tim nods slowly, not even bothering to deny it. “People are assholes, those people at the party? They’re probably going to be assholes, but less overt about it. But they’re like that about everything. As soon as I presented, one of them said, ‘Shame. He has all the poise of an omega and all the delicacy of one too. Is he going to last long by himself?’”

Jason blinks. “They really said that?”

“Well, I can’t remember the exact words, but that was the gist of it. Might as well have said that I should be neutered and married off to another alpha.”

Jason doesn’t even bother asking why Tim subjects himself to it anymore. The last time he’d asked, after Tim had come back from a gala whining about the snobby people he’d met there, he had said something about it giving him a ‘political edge’. Jason is pretty sure that means kissing asses in order to be first in mind for a promotion.

There’s also the fact that Tim is Bruce’s son, and has been dubbed Gotham’s sweetheart. He probably wants to live up to the name and show everyone, including the public, just how sweet he is.

Well, Tim can engage in that shit all he wants, but asking Jason to get involved? Hell no.

Tim hunches over, deflating as he sighs heavily. “I’m not trying to show you off, Jason. I only want someone there beside me when I’m forced to mingle with annoying _pompous_ pricks who all act like I want to give them the time of day, when in reality, they all know I don’t care and I know they don’t care either.”

“Well, shucks, kid, if all you wanted was an escort, you shoulda said so,” Jason says derisively, affecting the dialect used in his old neighbourhood, turning away from Tim completely as he works on polishing the other side of his bike.

He hears another heavy sigh. “Jason.”

He digs the cloth into the gap between the suspension and mudguard, squatting down to reach.

Another sigh. “Jay.”

“Stop. It’s annoying.” He pushes off the ground, straightening up and throwing the cloth and polish bottle over to the bench in frustration. He can’t work on his bike with Tim standing over his shoulder and _sighing_ every couple of seconds.

“I need to talk to you but I don’t want to talk to you while your back is turned to me. Respect goes both ways, you know.”

“That’s exactly why my back is turned. I don’t want to talk to you.”

He tenses up when he feels Tim’s hands snake around his waist, but ends up relaxing in Tim’s arms anyway. Something he’s learnt about himself recently is that he likes being held. He likes the feeling of arms around his waist, his hips, his hand in someone else’s. And when he doesn’t object or try to shake him off, Tim takes that as permission to rest his forehead against Jason’s back.

Tim sighs again, but it’s different now, it sounds content. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t get on Jason’s nerves like the rest of them though.

“That’s annoying,” he says again.

“What is?”

“Your sighing. It’s annoying.”

He feels Tim tense up behind him, and Jason entertains the thought that he might be repressing another sigh. “You’re getting tired of me.”

Now _that,_ Jason was not expecting. “What?” he asks.

“You’re getting tired of me. Now that the honeymoon period is almost over, reality is setting in and you’re coming to realise that you don’t want to spend the rest of your life with me.”

“Hon—honeymoon?” Jason repeats, bewildered. “What are you talking about?”

“Our honeymoon period. The period after claiming where it’s all sweet and romantic, before we start hating all the little things, all the little habits we once loved each other for.”

Jason blinks rapidly at the wall because this conversation is one of the most bizarre things he’s ever been involved in recently. But, perhaps, he should be expecting these things when it comes to Tim, nothing about him has ever been _normal._ “I never—I never _loved_ your stupid habits, alright? Stop being so dramatic.”

“Perhaps we should do something to save this relationship,” Tim says, pressing a kiss to Jason’s nape. “Perhaps we need to spice it up. Do something new together.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“Perhaps you should come with me to the party.”

“You—” Jason starts disbelievingly, “—that was the most roundabout way I’ve ever heard of trying to ask someone to go to a party.”

“Did it work?”

“No.”

“Are you amused?”

“A little.” Jason reaches down and plucks Tim’s arms off him just so he can turn around and face him, letting them settle around his waist again. “I’m laughing _at_ you though, and not _with_ you.”

“But I _did_ get you to turn, didn’t I? I must be a genius.”

Damn the prick, he did. He _must_ be a genius, in a roundabout sort of way.

“Now that I have your full attention,” he brushes against Jason’s pants to check if he has his _full_ attention and looks disappointed when he doesn’t, “I want to talk with you now. Seriously.”

“Seriously?” Jason questions, “‘Cause I’m pretty sure you were just about to make a dick joke—”

“Seriously,” Tim answers. “Because you said that I want an escort, but I don’t want an escort, I want you. And you know what you are to me? You’re my equal. My partner. When I bring you there I want to introduce you as my partner. You’re not just some date with a pretty face that’ll go on one arm as I sip on wine with the other. I want to introduce you to them, to everyone, not because I want to show you off, but because you’re my mate. I want to involve myself in your life, and I want you to involve yourself in mine. We go on patrol together, we buy groceries, we read together, we do almost everything together. What’s one thing more? I go to galas and parties, and I want to go to them together with you.”

Jason shuts his eyes because part of him is anticipating his answer and knows he isn’t going to be happy with himself. _Don’t_ give in, goddamnit.

“Fine,” he says, and he can almost hear the bars slam shut as he seals his fate, “I’ll come with you.”

“Yes!” If Tim wasn’t holding him and standing so close, Jason’s sure he would jump up into the air. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he says, pressing kisses to either side of Jason’s face.

“Yeah, don’t get too excited. I’m not going suit shopping with you or whatever the hell else you rich people do in preparation for events like these.”

“No, no, it’s more casual than that.”

“Good.”

“We’re still going to have to buy you a new outfit.”

Jason narrows his eyes. “Not a chance.”

He ends up being forcefully squeezed into a maroon sweater he’s adamant is at least a size too small but which Tim assures him is not. Going by the way the worker and Tim keep stealing glances at his chest when he exits the change room, he’s quite sure he’s being played. Tim makes him pair it with a white button-up underneath, and buys him new dress pants and leather shoes to boot, and though he feels like a prep school jerk, he can admit that he does look quite good.

 _At least I don’t stand out,_ he thinks as they exit the car and are greeted by a garden full of people who all look like they belong on the lawns of an Ivy League college.

A few heads turn in their direction as they approach one of the gazebo tents sheltering a number of tables filled with sandwiches and flutes of champagne. None of them stare for too long, they’re more likely checking to see who’s arrived rather than wondering who the mysterious man beside Tim Drake is.

However, as they make their way further into the maze of tables and gazebos, a few people come up to greet Tim—some young, some old, all people Jason has never seen before—and they grasp Tim’s hand firmly or give him kisses on both cheeks, a few even turning to Jason to do the same once they’re introduced.

Tim stops to speak with each of them, and each time, Jason finds he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Should he stay and watch them speak or should he excuse himself and walk away? Would that be rude? What they’re speaking about doesn’t concern him—it all has to do with business or family, and Jason doesn’t know much about either of those. Tim looks perfectly at ease, answering their probes and questions with witty grace and a certain aplomb that Jason could never hope to achieve even with practice.

Although on the way here, Jason had decided to himself that he’d do his best not to let the inevitable judgmental stares and hushed whispers get to him, he realises now that he is completely out of his depth.

He doesn’t belong here. He is a street rat, born and raised—aside from that brief, _brief_ stint as the adopted son of a billionaire, but that barely counts—

“Hello,” a man beside the table Jason is currently picking food from—having taken a brief moment of reprieve from Tim’s friends’ chit-chat to stuff himself full with canapés—says. “The smoked salmon is delicious, isn’t it.”

Jason looks up at him, and instantly recognises him as one of Bruce’s friends, a man of almost equally as imposing stature and wealth, but one, Jason remembers, of a type that would rather let others take the limelight. “I dunno,” he says, shrugging, “I’m more of a burger kind of guy.”

The man lets out an amused puff of breath, one corner of his mouth sliding up as he smiles down at Jason. “I suppose nothing can beat a good burger. I have to ask though—homemade or store-bought?”

“If by store-bought you mean the Steak ‘N Shake down the street from me, then yes, store-bought,” and when the man chuckles, Jason finds himself smiling too. “Though I can cook a mean steak burger myself.”

“Oh?” The man’s eyebrows raise. “I also enjoy cooking, however my brother begs me not to because I somehow always manage to make it taste like—well, to quote him word-for-word—like human excrement.”

A startled laugh bursts from Jason’s lips. “That’s… that’s unfortunate.”

The man’s eyes brighten at the sound of Jason’s laugh, but then he turns apologetic when he looks down at the plate in Jason’s hands. “Excuse my language. I forgot you were eating.”

Jason looks down at the untouched canapés on his plate. “Oh, that’s fine. Takes a lot to gross me out.”

“Glad to hear it. Perhaps… perhaps one of these days you could give me a few pointers?”

Jason blinks at the coy look on the man’s face. “A few… pointers?”

“Cooking pointers,” the man elaborates. “Or perhaps, if you’d like to, and if you don’t have plans afterwards, perhaps we could have dinner. Food like this won’t quite fill you up.” He gestures down at the table.

“Oh,” Jason says. _Oh._ “I’m actually… with someone.” He looks back and sees Tim still in the middle of a conversation, a little annoyed quirk between his brows.

Interesting.

“Oh,” the man echoes, his eyes following Jason’s. “Wayne’s son?”

“Yeah,” Jason says. “I didn’t realise you didn’t know.”

If the man is disappointed, he hides it well. “My apologies, I didn’t scent his claim. I—well, it was a pleasure, but I’ll leave you alone now.” And with that, he turns away and disappears back into the throng of the party, Jason left staring after him.

Jason clenches his jaw, then lets the tension go, along with his own disappointment. When he was approached and engaged with in talk about something that didn’t have to do with his status, he’d thought he might be able to finally enjoy himself, to feel _normal,_ maybe even make a friend _._ He should have known he was just a potential mate in his eyes.

“Old creep,” Jason mutters under his breath, turning towards the cocktail table now.

“Are you alright?”

When he turns, Tim has a hand on his arm, and is looking up at him with concern. Looking around, Jason realises that they’re alone now, and that those who were last talking to Tim have reintegrated themselves back into the party.

“I’m fine,” Jason answers quietly, “just one of Bruce’s friends making small talk.”

“Maybe we should go somewhere quieter,” Tim suggests, and he leads Jason inside the manor.

It’s been several years since Jason was last here. He keeps his head down low and avoids looking at the portraits hanging on the walls. There are some things he’s better off not knowing.

Unfortunately, their journey is waylaid by an older straggler on the stairs. He calls Tim’s name and waddles down the stairs towards them, and Jason does his best to school his expression into one of politeness although a snicker wants to sneak out. Someone’s obviously made the most out of the expensive champagne.

“Timothy Drake,” the man says when he eventually waddles over to them, gripping Tim’s hand in a firm handshake. “You’ve grown.”

“It _has_ been almost five years, Lester.”

 _Lester._ Jason almost scoffs at how ridiculous these people are.

The man looks Jason up and down, deliberately trying to keep his expression blank, though tragically failing to do so. “This is your… bodyguard?”

“My omega,” Tim corrects him casually.

Lester’s eyebrows flick upwards on his forehead before he can school his surprise. “Oh. Well, I didn’t think I’d be meeting Timothy’s omega today. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure,” Jason replies curtly. He wonders at how much more awkward this could possibly become when Lester continues staring openly, giving him a very obvious appraisal.

“You’re very tall. Would you say you’re around six foot two?”

Jason is very tempted not to answer. “Just six feet actually.”

“Ah.”

“Lester,” Tim cuts in after a sharp intake of breath, “we would love to stay and talk, however we’re on an errand right now. Bruce wanted us to grab something from his personal wine collection—a German Riesling, I think it was—but we also have to get something for Sophia’s baby, would you—”

“Oh, I can go down to get the wine for you!” Lester butts in, leaning forward almost a little too far in his excitement. “You needn’t worry yourselves, just look after Sophia, I’m sure she could use an omega’s warm touch,” he says, aiming a sloppy wink at Jason. “Just,” he points a wavering finger down the hall, “remind me where the cellar is again?”

Tim smiles at him. “It’s down the hall opposite us,” he says patiently, setting a guiding hand on Lester’s back to turn him the right way, “follow it to the right, then enter the room on the left three doors from the end.”

“Follow it to the right…” Lester murmurs, already wandering off down the hall.

“Come on,” Tim says, taking Jason’s hand and leading him quickly away from the area, back towards the library.

“That man’s going to raid Bruce’s cellar if he somehow makes it there,” Jason whispers, amused but also slightly concerned. He doesn’t want to inadvertently make a mess for Alfred to clean up.

“Don’t worry,” Tim whispers back, “Bruce leaves a few attendants down there now. Ever since a drunk guest stumbled inside and—well, Bruce doesn’t drink but those still are some very expensive wines. I’m more concerned for _him_ anyway, do you think he’ll find the—oh!”

Above on the railings, two young women coo down at them.

“Timothy! Is this your omega we’ve heard so much about?” One of them flutters her fingers at Jason.

Tim immediately plasters a wide smile on his face, wrapping an arm around Jason’s waist and pulling him close. “Yes, Monica, this is Jason. Jason, meet Monica and Bianca.”

“Hello, Jason,” they say at the same time, and Jason offers a greeting in reply, making sure to stay polite even though he can’t quite control what his face is doing.

“He’s so tall and handsome,” Monica says, and Jason clenches his jaw when he realises she’s bypassing him and addressing Tim only, and though Jason knows this is a traditional custom, it’s also very archaic and just plain prejudiced.

“Yes, looking from afar, he could very well be _your_ alpha, Timothy.”

“Oh yes, or perhaps you chose him _because_ of that fact?”

“Monica, Bianca,” Tim says sweetly, and the girls smile at him and lift their chins and brows, “it has been quite a while since we last saw each other, and while I would love to stay and catch up, we do need to find your uncle Lester, I’ve heard he might be down in the cellar again.”

“Oh,” Bianca gasps and Monica’s eyes widen, and they hurriedly make their way to the staircase.

Tim drops the facade as soon as they’re out of sight, but he doesn’t remove his arm from around Jason’s waist. Jason pulls it off for him.

“You said you weren’t going to show me off,” he hisses.

Tim looks vaguely hurt. “I’m not. These people keep _asking_ for some reason. I’m as annoyed by it as you are.”

Jason could smack himself. He was an idiot for ever agreeing to come here. He’d thought that Tim promising not to show him off meant that people would let him sink into the background. Because bringing along a new face to a private Wayne function _won’t_ get people’s tongues wagging. Right. Tim is either an idiot or an asshole who planned the whole thing, but Jason won’t deny him being both.

As soon as they walk through the doors of the library, Jason goes to the far window and looks out. Thankfully, the garden party doesn’t extend out towards the far sides of the manor, so he doesn’t have to look out at the throngs of people wearing too-bright smiles and expensive clothes. Instead he’s greeted by the lush greens of the garden and the beech trees sprawled beyond.

“Jason.”

Jason ignores him, leaning his head against the window frame and shutting his eyes.

“Jason, I’m sorry.”

He feels a touch against his wrist, and though he isn’t in the mood to be touched, he doesn’t pull away. “What do you want?” He turns to see Tim worrying at his lip.

“Do you want to leave?” he asks, surprising Jason.

“What? Just like that?”

“Just like that. It’s the least I could do… for making you come here with me then subjecting you to all of this. I’m already quite frustrated with how some people have behaved, I can’t imagine how you feel. And I know I’m not helping, playing into the act…”

“Oh yeah, you’ve definitely been playing into the act. What, did you get jealous when you saw that man coming onto me? Feel the need to make it clear I’m yours now?”

Tim’s brow furrows. “He was coming onto you?”

“Yes,” Jason snaps, “yes, he was coming onto me. See, you didn’t even know and yet you got all angry when he was talking to me.”

“I didn’t ‘get all angry,’” Tim says, indignant. “I was concerned.”

“Concerned? Why would you be concerned? Just because I’m an omega doesn’t mean I can’t look after myself—”

“I know!” Tim exclaims. “Christ, you don’t think I know? I’m allowed to be a little protective, okay, you’re my _mate._ It’s not like I stomped over and picked a fight with the guy. So I couldn’t control my face, so what? I trust you, I trust you to take care of yourself, I’m not going to just forget that you’re six feet and all muscle, especially not when everyone keeps reminding me about it.”

“Yeah, you should just lead with that next time. ‘Hey, good to see you, this is my six foot tall omega mate, and no, that isn’t a joke.’ It’ll save you some time.”

Tim hunches over, looking miserable.

“Or better yet, you could put a sign around my neck. ‘Tim’s omega.’ That’ll get the message through loud and clear.”

Tim shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I… ugh, what was I thinking?” He slouches against the wall and slides down until he’s sitting on the floor. “Of course this was all going to happen. I just thought I would be able to handle it.”

Jason sighs, then sits himself down next to him. “Look, I’m sorry too. You’re right, you’re allowed to be protective over me. You’re allowed to introduce me to people too. And I got myself into this mess with you by agreeing to even come in the first place, don’t blame yourself for all of that.”

Tim looks at him sideways. “So what should I blame myself for, then?”

“For being a kiss-ass.”

Tim punches his arm lightly.

“But really,” Jason says. “How much hold do your bosses hold over you that you feel like you need to do anything to impress them?”

“Too much, apparently.”

He reaches for Jason again, turning Jason’s hand palm up and twisting their fingers together.

“I want to be a good mate,” he whispers, the quietest of admissions.

“I know.”

“It’s hard.”

“It is.”

“It’s a good thing claims are for forever, right? Otherwise, you’d have dumped me by now.”

Jason looks at him, feeling himself soften at the sincerely dejected expression gracing Tim’s face. “I’d never. Even if an older, richer, and handsomer alpha propositioned me, I’d never.”

Tim gives him an unimpressed look, but he must be able to tell it’s all in jest as the corner of his lips lift to shape his mouth into a crooked smile.

“Who would treat me as well as you, huh?” Jason says, squeezing his hand.

“A lot… a lot of other people. You deserve… so much more than I can give—”

“Stop,” Jason says. “Just stop. Why would you say that? You’re the only alpha I’ve met who treats me like a human being. Like an equal. That’s all I can ask for. I’ll never have a better mate than you.”

When Jason looks, Tim’s cheeks are filled with colour and his eyes look a little wet at the corners.

“Why are you crying?” Jason asks in alarm.

Tim laughs softly. “I’m not, I’m just feeling really overwhelmed, I think. Can I…?” He looks down at their hands joined together.

“Oh. Yeah, if it’ll help,” Jason says.

Tim brings Jason’s hand up to his face, and Jason feels the tip of his nose tickle his skin as he scents his wrist. Then Tim brings it to his neck, letting Jason scent mark him as he does the same, rubbing his wrist gently up and down the side of Jason’s neck. It won’t leave a strong mark because the gland on the wrist emits relatively little scent, however the action seems to soothe Tim, who shuts his eyes as he leans into Jason’s touch.

“Better?” Jason asks, a deep, pleased rumble suddenly filling the air, which he immediately cuts off.

Tim’s eyes flash open and he smiles. “Of course, your scent always calms me down. Reminds me of home.” The smile turns a touch wicked when he adds, “And it’s always great getting you to purr.”

“Wasn’t a purr,” Jason mutters, rolling his eyes.

“Totally was,” Tim says, leaning in to place a soft kiss on Jason’s lips.

Jason’s lips tingle where they touch, and when he runs a tongue reflexively along his bottom lip, Tim’s eyes snap to it, following the movement like a hawk.

“Let’s leave,” he says decisively.

Jason blinks in surprise. “When?”

“Now,” he says, getting up and holding a hand down towards Jason. “Let’s leave now.”

“A little overeager, don’t you think?” Jason says, but he lets himself be pulled up to his feet. And though he doesn’t want to see the man himself, he knows Tim holds a lot of respect for him, so he gives a little reminder, “You haven’t even seen Bruce.”

“He’ll understand,” Tim says. “We can always see him at the next—”

At that moment, the library doors swing open. Bruce stands alone in the doorway, not looking surprised to see them. It’s always a shock seeing Bruce; although they’re meant to be on good terms now, Jason still doesn’t feel comfortable being around him. He knows avoidance isn’t very helpful, but he just can’t bring himself to take any steps towards reconciliation. He doesn’t think he wants to.

“Tim, Jason.” Bruce greets, and the fact that he’s using his ‘Bruce’ voice doesn’t make this any easier.

“Bruce.” Jason straightens up, his hackles rising at the sight of his former alpha, packmate, and father.

“The guests outside are looking for you,” Bruce says, making no attempt to get closer. He can obviously sense how tense he’s made them. “They thought you might have left without saying goodbye.”

“We needed a break from the noise,” Tim says, adding, “But we are leaving, actually.”

“So soon?”

“Something came up.”

Bruce nods, seeming to accept this answer. Instead of saying goodbye however, he turns to Jason. “Jason,” he says. “It’s… good to see you.”

“I wish I could say the same.”

“Jason—”

“We’re not doing this _here,_ Bruce,” Jason snaps, a growl working itself up in his throat. “Not now. It’s not the right time nor place for what you want to talk about.”

Bruce looks at him in silence for a few moments, and it’s hard to gauge what he’s thinking when he keeps his face blank. Eventually though, he steps back and to the side, clearing the doorway.

Jason walks past and Tim follows, but before they can get very far, Bruce’s voice calls after them.

“Like it or not,” he says, “we’re pack again. And, if you remember, our pack has certain ways of doing things. As your alpha, I expect you to abide by these rules.”

Jason inhales sharply, and is about to turn and snarl at Bruce when he feels a touch at his back.

“Thank you, Bruce, but that advice is both unnecessary and inappropriate,” Tim says smoothly, putting himself in between them. “Jason hasn’t broken one of your rules in a long time. And _you_ aren’t his alpha. I am. _If_ Jason was going to follow anyone’s rules, it’d be mine. But he’s his own person, and he doesn’t— _shouldn’t_ have to.”

They start off again, but Tim, apparently having more to add, stops and turns once again, “Oh, and Bruce?”

Bruce tilts his head up, waiting.

“When me and Jason have our own pups, you’ll have nothing to do with our pack.”

He twists and turns on his heel, leaving both Jason and Bruce to stare after him in shock. Jason, having been fine with everything Tim has said up to this point, follows after him, protesting, “Excuse me, _what?”_

“What?” Tim shoots back, not stopping and forcing Jason to lower his voice as they reach more populated areas again.

 _“Pups?”_ Jason hisses.

Tim blinks, apparently only now realising what he said. “Oh, god.” He turns a panicked look on Jason. “Oh, god! Forget I said anything.”

“That would be easy if you hadn’t also said it to _Bruce.”_

Tim shakes his head. “I am so sorry, it’s just that— _Bruce_ with his scent and calling himself your _alpha_ —I think it was a reflex.”

Jason gapes at him. “You’re so _insufferable._ Telling Bruce that you want to put babies in me is your idea of a _reflex?_ It sounds more like you’re jealous.”

“I’m not _jealous,”_ Tim says, disgruntled, uttering a hasty apology when his tone alarms two older women who happen to be passing by as they enter the main hall where a large group have congregated, “I’m on _edge._ You’re right, there’s too much attention being directed at you, and I can tell some of it isn’t just innocent curiosity.”

Jason splutters. “W—what—? That means you’re jealous!”

“I’m _not_ jealous—”

“Timothy Drake!” A lady with the widest smile Jason’s ever seen slips over to them, cutting through the crowd like a shark cutting through waves. A group of her friends follows slightly behind. “It has been so long! How have you been?”

“Great, just great,” Tim replies, barely concealing his impatience. The smile he gives her looks almost deranged.

She doesn’t seem to notice. “Papa is around somewhere, he’d love to catch up with you, update you on his latest business venture, he’s been crazy about it ever since he met this accountant—oh, is he with you?” she suddenly asks, looking straight at Jason as if seeing him for the first time.

“Yes, he is.”

She sniffs the air then blinks. “He’s… your omega.”

Tim smiles brightly at her. “Yes. He is.”

“He’s awfully… big, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Tim says, and Jason swears his smile gets wider. “He is.”

The woman looks incredibly uncomfortable now, looking back and forth between Tim and her friends behind her as if unsure about whether she wants to continue the conversation or run back to the safety of the gossip machine.

Fortunately, they’re saved by the timely arrival of another one of Tim’s acquaintances, a young man about their age. Unfortunately, he is an alpha and more handsy than everyone Jason’s met today.

“Drake. Rochelle,” he says, sidling up to their group, nodding at Tim who greets him with a quiet, “Carter,” and kissing Rochelle’s cheeks. He looks at Jason and smiles, “And you are?”

 _Finally,_ Jason thinks, someone else who acknowledges him directly. “Jason Todd,” he answers, holding a hand out for him to shake, even though it isn’t the traditional way an omega would greet someone, “I’m Tim’s partner.”

Thankfully, Carter doesn’t give him a weird look or make a snide comment; he takes his hand and shakes it firmly. “Partner?” he asks. “Like a business partner or…?”

“Jason is Tim’s omega,” Rochelle says, giggling slightly.

Carter’s brows go up momentarily. He doesn’t let go of Jason’s hand. “Really? _Drake’s_ omega? I can barely scent him on you, though,” he brings Jason’s hand closer to his face and takes a deep breath, “your natural scent is quite powerful, I suppose even a claim would be overshadowed by a scent like yours.”

“Are you saying I have bad B.O.?” Jason asks.

“Not at all,” Carter says, slowly stroking his thumb across the back of Jason’s hand. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Tim growls from beside Jason, startling both Rochelle and Carter, who lets go of Jason immediately. They look quite shocked at this blatant display of aggression, but Carter immediately schools his expression into something more perfunctory, running a hand through his hair.

“Uh—well, I’d be interested in hearing about how you met,” Rochelle stutters. “We were all convinced you would marry someone from the company—”

“Actually, Jason and I have to go,” Tim states. “I just now remembered that we left something in the library.”

“We can all go together,” Carter insists, “you’ve hardly allowed us time to catch up—”

“No,” Tim all but snaps, already walking away.

“Well, it was a pleasure seeing you again, Tim,” Carter calls after him, and if he means to be sarcastic at all he disguises it quite well. “Perhaps I’ll call Robert up. We can have a game on the weekend, if you’re free. The invitation extends to you, Jason, as well.” He aims a smile at Jason which Jason doesn’t return, instead turning away to follow after Tim.

“A game?” Jason asks once they’re out of earshot.

“Lacrosse.”

Jason feels his brows fly up his forehead. “If that isn’t the most stereotypical rich boy—”

Tim grabs his hand and Jason startles as he is lead back to the hallway.

“Where are we going? Are we leaving?” Jason asks as they walk back to the entrance hall. “We aren’t really going back to the library, right? I think Bruce is still there.”

Instead of heading to the front doors or to the hall that leads to the library however, he continues walking across the floor and up the grand staircase.

“Tim,” he tries again, tugging a little to try and loosen Tim’s grip, “where are you taking me?”

Tim tightens his hold. Jason looks down at his face and blinks in surprise when he sees the expression there. He looks angry. His lips are pressed into a thin line, his brows are drawn heavy over his eyes. “I’m sick of everyone telling me what to do, how to think. I’d have thought it’d get better with age but it just seems to be getting worse.”

 _“You_ may be sick of them. I, for one, was enjoying the very enlightening conversation— _lacrosse,_ really?”

Tim’s eyes soften a little in amusement. “Humour me.”

Jason gives a mental shrug and decides to follow along. Besides the food, there’s nothing downstairs that they’re really missing out on.

Eventually, after winding through what seems like five different hallways, they end up in a fairly innocuous room, with a few bookshelves lining the walls, a large desk off in the corner, a fireplace on the opposite wall, and an armchair set in front of the one window of the room.

Tim finally lets him go and Jason steps closer to the desk, eyeing the papers on the desk. “Why are we in Bruce’s study?” There’s a handwritten note in the middle that upon closer inspection looks to be a letter addressed to Selina. He decides to read it later, figuring it’ll probably make for some good blackmail material.

Realising Tim hasn’t answered, he turns around, question on his lips, and is faced with the stormiest expression he’s ever seen on his mate’s face.

“Tim?” he tries prompting.

“It’s so strange how everyone thinks I should be attracted to smaller omegas. Have you noticed? They keep bringing it up, it’s all they can talk about. It’s almost like they want me to give you up.”

“Well, duh. I’m not some dainty five-foot-two omega kept inside for all my life. My _pedigree_ is _disgraceful_ _.”_

“I think they want you,” Tim says. “I think they’re trying to make me give you up so they can have you to themselves.”

“Tim, are you blind?” Jason says disbelievingly. “They think I’m a freak—”

“Not _Carter,_ _”_ Tim almost snarls the name. “Not _Bruce’s friend,_ the people downstairs, people on the _street_ _._ I see them all looking but none of them can have you. You chose me.”

“I was right,” Jason says incredulously, feeling his eyes go wide. “You are jealous. They’re only looking because they’re wondering why someone like you is with someone like me.”

“Exactly. Because they think I don’t deserve someone like you.”

Jason furrows his brow. “Now, that’s not—”

Tim is wound so tight Jason can actually see him begin to shake, watching as tremors travel all the way through Tim’s body, in his knees, and down his arms to his fingers.

Jason brings his arms around him, afraid he might suddenly collapse. “Are you alright?” he asks.

Tim shuts his eyes, clenching his teeth. Jason can feel the tremors wracking his body. “I think I’m—I think I’m entering my rut.”

Jason stops breathing for a second. “Oh my god.” When he scents the air, he becomes conscious of the powerful, almost overbearing musk that signals Tim’s arousal. “Oh my god! _This_ is why you’ve been acting so weird, _this_ is why you’ve been getting so jealous—you’re an idiot!”

Tim growls a little at that, but Jason knows it’s an unhappy noise rather than a threat.

“Well, what do we do? You’ve brought us further into the manor rather than away from it for some reason, we don’t have any supplies here.”

“We don’t need any.”

“Well, at least let me get Alfred. Maybe he can take us to your old room—”

“We don’t need that—”

“No? Not even food? Water?”

Tim takes his hands in his, holding tight onto Jason’s fingers as if attempting to ground himself. Jason reverses their hold, squeezing Tim’s hands in a bid to stop their shaking. This rut is going to a particularly bad one, if Tim’s behaviour now is any indication.

When Jason looks up however, instead of seeing glossy and unfocused eyes, as is the case usually when Tim enters his pre-rut stage, he’s met with a hard and determined stare.

“The only thing I need is you,” Tim states. “You’re my omega.”

“Very charming,” Jason says sarcastically, pushing him away and making his way over to the window, near the armchair, “sure you don’t need your data pad as well? You’re always attached to it.” He pushes at the window in an attempt to open it to air the room out and growls under his breath when it doesn’t budge.

He hears Tim inhale sharply behind him. “Don’t mock me,” he warns.

“I’ll mock you all I want,” Jason snaps, and though it’s unadvised to confront an alpha, especially one in rut, Jason has never had to worry about that with Tim. “You brought me here knowing I’d be treated like this, and you have the gall to get all worked up over the thought of a couple of people even _looking_ my way. They’re not going to steal me away, dumbass. I’m not leaving. And I’m sure you’d make sure of that too.”

“I’m never giving you up,” Tim agrees, and yeah, his pre-rut alpha brain decides to focus on _that_ part of all things, of course. “You belong to me, and if anyone tries to take you from me, I’ll—”

“You’ll what, sue them for all they’re worth?” Jason says tauntingly. “And hey, what did we say about possessions again?” He turns around and blinks in surprise when he sees how wrecked Tim looks already, his ears and neck all red, eyes so dilated they’re almost black, his hair a mess where he’s apparently been running his fingers through it.

“I’ll make them regret it,” he answers, refusing to take the bait. “And they’d deserve it for ignoring my claim on you. You’re _mine.”_  He stalks towards Jason and surges upwards, claiming his mouth in a hard kiss.

He’s all teeth and tongue, biting at Jason’s lip and licking into Jason’s mouth, and Jason can’t stop himself from responding in kind, not stopping the moan Tim coaxes out of his throat.

“Whoa, whoa, wait a second,” he says when Tim lets up for a moment. “What are you doing?”

Instead of going for his lips again, Tim burrows his face in Jason’s neck, inhaling deeply and releasing his breath shakily. “Getting rid of his scent,” he says.

Oh. This is Bruce’s study. It has his scent all over and it’s probably affecting Tim in the worst of ways, having Bruce’s alpha pheromones all over the furniture, surrounding Jason.

Tim pushes forward, and Jason stumbles back until his legs hit the armchair and he falls into it with a grunt as Tim falls on top of him.

“We’re stinking up his room,” Jason half-heartedly protests.

“Good. He deserves it for keeping around shitty friends.”

Jason’s eyes widen as he realises why exactly Tim chose Bruce’s study to bring Jason for his rut. “God, you’re so petty.”

He feels the warning of teeth against his skin before Tim lowers his mouth to Jason’s collarbone and nips.

Jason hisses. “Ow. Bastard.”

Tim apologises for it by replacing his teeth with lips, kissing at the bite softly, then pecking along Jason’s collarbone back to his throat. Jason strokes his fingers through Tim’s hair, practically petting him as he starts licking, laying his tongue flat against Jason’s skin and dragging it up to his chin.

Jason huffs at the feeling of Tim’s saliva on his skin being exposed to the air. “Stop. Gross.”

Pulling back, Tim gives him an exasperated look, sliding his hands down Jason’s legs, urging him to spread, then repositioning himself between them, sinking down to grind his hips against Jason’s.

Jason’s lips part on a wordless moan when he feels how hard Tim is already. He’s heavy yet lithe at the same time, grinding his crotch almost artfully down on Jason’s, and the feeling of Tim—of his _alpha_ being so adept and knowing exactly what he wants makes Jason’s breath quicken in anticipation.

Tim starts groping his chest through his clothes, huffing impatiently when it doesn’t get the reaction he wants. He shoves his sweater up and untucks his shirt from his pants, pushing them up over Jason’s chest until they bunch under his armpits and his nipples are exposed to the cool air. Tim flicks at the nubs and Jason suppresses a gasp.

“Look at these,” Tim says, resting his hands on the sides of Jason’s abdomen and flicking at his nipples with his thumbs. “They’re so hard for me already.”

Jason arches his back, chasing the feel of pressure on his chest. “Please,” he pleads.

Looking just as overwhelmed, Tim leans down and licks across Jason’s left pec, then sucks his nipple into his mouth, squeezing Jason’s other pec in his hand.

Jason jolts, then his hands come around to hold Tim’s head down to his chest, his hips grinding up against Tim’s. Loud, suckling noises fill the empty room, and though Jason should feel embarrassed all he feels is thick, untempered lust.

He stares down at Tim sucking on his chest, shivering at the way his pec perfectly fits in Tim’s hand. He’d never admit this aloud, but he’s always loved the way they just seem to be made for each other. The omega who looks like an alpha, and the alpha who looks like an omega.

Tim pulls away after a few minutes, his mouth shiny and red, a thin string of saliva connecting his mouth to Jason’s nipple. Jason shivers again when Tim blows on it. “Have I told you how much I love your tits? Think I tell you all the time, but I’ve never told you how much I dream about them growing full with milk.”

Jason shudders. “Christ, Tim, that’s—” He can’t finish, not when Tim’s so effectively distracting him.

“They can all look, all those alphas outside, but none of them get to have you. None of them get to touch you. None of them get to see you like this.” He grinds down slow, rubbing their clothed cocks together and Jason gasps. “So sweet for me.”

“‘Course not,” Jason answers. “None of them will, ‘cause I’m—”

“‘Cause you’re…?” Tim prompts, pausing and making Jason earn his touch.

“I’m yours,” Jason finishes, “and you’re mine.”

“I am yours,” Tim agrees, rewarding Jason with a kiss. “I’d do anything for you. Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me,” Jason says shamelessly. “Fuck me right here in Bruce’s chair.”

“We’re right next to the window,” Tim says, but it’s stated as a fact rather than an attempt to change Jason’s mind. “Anyone can see—”

“We’re near the back of the manor, everyone’s out front,” Jason says. “Anyone who does come by isn’t gonna know who we are.”

“As long as you’re sure,” Tim says as he reaches down to untie Jason’s shoes, pulling them off along with his socks. When he goes to unbuckle Jason’s belt and pull down his pants, he adds, “Because I’m not stopping for anything. Not even if someone walks into the room.”

He throws Jason’s clothes to the side and rubs his palm along Jason’s bulge through his briefs. Jason catches the whine in his throat before it escapes, but he lets himself hump Tim’s hand, feeling slick slide between his asscheeks, soaking his underwear.

Tim hooks his fingers into the band of his briefs, pulling them down slowly and smirking when Jason’s cock bounces up towards his navel. The large damp spot on the back of his briefs lets Jason know exactly how slick he is, and his eyes go wide when Tim brings the briefs up to his face and sniffs them.

“Oh my god,” Jason whispers, “you’re a pervert.”

Tim scowls at him, throwing his briefs on top of the clothes pile. “Out of all the things we’ve done, _that’s_ where you cross the line?” He kneels on the ground and pulls Jason towards him, positioning his ass closer to the edge of the chair, then he pushes Jason’s legs up, Jason taking over and holding his knees so Tim can use his hands to hold Jason open.

Jason holds his breath in anticipation, but he still isn’t prepared for the way Tim just slides his fingers in without any warning.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes, staring down at where his cock is twitching against his navel in response to Tim fucking him with his fingers. Tim spends a few minutes sliding his fingers in and out, so when he suddenly crooks them and presses against a certain spot, Jason isn’t able to contain his cry.

 _“Oh!”_ he exclaims, _“Oh—mmfff—!”_ He shoves his fist in his mouth when Tim fucks his fingers against the spot relentlessly, holding Jason down with his other hand when he tries to move away.

He pulls them out suddenly, and Jason drops his legs, whining, “Why’d you stop?”

“I want you to feel me,” Tim says, and Jason stares as he undoes his belt and pants, dropping them to his feet. Instead of taking off his tie, he throws it over his shoulder. “All of me. And I want to feel you come when I’m inside you.”

Jason holds his legs up again, and Tim slides his cock a few times through the slick before he finally slides in, bottoming out in one go. They both groan into each other’s mouths, Tim claiming Jason’s mouth in a messy kiss, fucking his tongue into Jason’s mouth and biting at his lips.

Tim doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask if Jason’s okay, he just stares into Jason’s eyes for any indication of pain, then starts pulling out and sliding back in slowly when he deems Jason ready.

Jason feels so full, so content being fucked into like this, his eyes roll into the back of his head, and he stares hard at the ceiling, focusing on not coming there and then. Each time Tim bottoms out, a long exhale exits Jason’s lips, and each time he pulls out, Jason takes a deep breath. This steady breathing goes a long way in getting himself back under control, and when he looks, Tim is doing the same, his chest rising and falling in a steady motion as he slowly thrusts.

At one point, Tim slides all the way in and stops, and when Jason—so satisfyingly full—looks to him questioningly, Tim breathes, “I love you.”

Jason’s breath catches in his throat. “Tim—”

“Say it,” he begs, “please, say it.” His eyes are wide and blue and desperate, so desperate for Jason’s affection.

Jason could cry. “I love you, you stupid asshole, now fuck me.”

Tim kisses him again, and as he does, he slams harder into Jason, breathing harshly into Jason’s mouth.

“Oh fuck—oh _fuck,”_ Jason gasps, nerves lighting on fire because every thrust is hitting him just right, and he feels like he can come from just this—Tim’s cock hammering into him, his cock bouncing on his belly from the force.

When he looks up, Tim’s staring back at him. His gaze is piercing, his eyes like lasers, focused solely on Jason’s face. It’s overwhelming and intimate and Jason finds that he can’t look away, caught in the snare of Tim’s light blue eyes.

When Tim kisses him again, Jason doesn’t stop the shaky, desperate whine that climbs out of his throat. “Tim,” he cries, _“Tim.”_

“I have you.” Tim takes hold of his cock and starts stroking it for him, and Jason moans at the feeling of his neglected cock finally getting attention. “I have you. I’ll make you feel so good.”

Tim folds him over, legs over shoulders, and fucks into him until the armchair is thumping dangerously hard against the window. His tie falls from his shoulder, and it dangles just over Jason’s middle, brushing against his abs every so often.

Jason wishes Tim took off his clothes, so he can see the red on his pale neck continue down across his chest, but there’s something erotic about the contrast between his near-naked self and Tim still dressed in his expensive slacks and dress shirt. It becomes unbearable when Tim leans down to whisper in his ear, “Hope they scent this on you, only way they’ll understand, see them try and pretend like I didn’t just come inside you—”

 _“Fuck,_  oh my god, Tim,” Jason cries, hand slapping the back of the armchair for support, eyes rolling back into his head as Tim’s dick assaults his prostate. “Too much, it’s too much, I’m coming—”

His entire body tenses up as he comes, and through the haze of his orgasm, he sees Tim staring down at him with a look he can only describe as wonder. Jason’s ass clenching around his cock is apparently enough to set him off, as he gives a few more hard thrusts, and Jason feels the knot grow and lock them into place.

The feeling of once again being filled up so completely has Jason feeling completely well-fucked and content. The only sounds in the room are their harsh pants—no yelling from any unfortunate bystanders outside or Bruce.

He smiles blissfully at Tim and Tim smiles back, brushing Jason’s bangs out of his face.

“Fuck, Jay,” he breathes. “I want you every way I can have you. I’d even let you fuck me if you asked. Would you like that?”

Jason chokes. “Alphas don’t—”

“I’d do it. For you.”

And for the first time in his life, Jason imagines an alpha giving himself up like that, letting Jason take what he’s expected to offer up every day of his life, and Jason decides that he likes that idea very much. “God. _Yes_ _,_ Tim, _yes.”_

They kiss again, and eventually Tim collapses on top of him, burying his face back in Jason’s throat.

A few minutes pass, and Jason gives a groan when he realises that he’s stuck with his legs in the air on an armchair instead of a bed. He glares at the boy above him, any lustful thoughts he still had completely wiped away by his annoyance. “This is the worst place we could’ve knotted.”

Tim straightens up as much as he can—which isn’t very much considering he’s stuck to Jason, half on the armchair, half off—and flicks his hair out of his eyes cockily. “You weren’t saying that two seconds ago—”

“Shut up. How long d’you have?”

“Not sure. Maybe about ten minutes.”

Jason groans again, tilting his head to the right towards the desk because Tim hasn’t stopped staring at him and it doesn’t feel hot anymore, rather he feels like he’s being picked apart. Aside from the physical discomfort of missionary knotting, Jason realises that it is also incredibly awkward to be forced to stay facing each other for however many minutes.

“I could move you to the desk,” Tim suggests.

“No, that would be worse. Besides, I doubt you could carry me.”

He sees Tim’s hand moving, and watches as he rubs his palm over Jason’s pecs, one after the other. Jason’s nipples harden again at his touch, and he curses his sensitivity as his cock starts to stir again. Tim brings his other hand over to run down his abs, brings them both up to graze at his obliques.

“Look at you,” Tim says, his voice soft. “You’re perfect.”

Jason snorts. “Not Dick Grayson-perfect obviously, but—”

“No,” Tim says firmly, his eyes suddenly hard, hands back to gripping his legs. “I mean what I say.”

Jason swallows and purses his lips before he can say anything stupid.

“Look at these thighs.” Jason feels Tim’s fingers dig into his skin briefly before they travel downwards. “This ass.” They grip at his cheeks and Jason hears Tim groan as he looks at where they’re joined. “Fuck.” He thrusts slightly and Jason gasps.

“No,” Jason says firmly, “we are not going again. Once you can pull out we’re putting our clothes on and leaving.” He doesn’t want to stick around longer than necessary in case Bruce decides he needs something from his study.

“Fine,” Tim says. “But you should know,” and he bends down to whisper in Jason’s ear, “as soon as we get home, I’m going to have you lay on your side, and I’m going to fuck your thighs. Then I’m going to spread you open and put my knot in here,” he reaches down to finger at the delicate skin where Jason’s spread around him, “where you can feel it—”

“You’re not knotting me on my back again.”

Tim pulls back, blinking. “What?”

“You’re not knotting me like this. My legs are cramping up.”

Tim looks as if this news is very devastating to him. He drops the sexy act completely and frowns—no— _pouts,_  and the crease between his brows that always shows whenever he’s truly upset appears. “But I need to see your face,” he insists.

Jason wants to laugh—Tim is just so _cute_ sometimes—but he knows it would only hurt his feelings. “You don’t _need_ to see it, you _want_ to see it.”

“No, I _need_ to see it,” Tim insists. “I need to know if I’m hurting you—”

Jason gives him a light shove. His chest feels light and airy, almost giddy, and he would squeal if he weren’t so sure he’d sound like an ass. “You don’t hurt me anymore, you idiot, you’ve knotted me about twenty times, you know exactly what makes me feel good.”

Tim’s face lights up in pride. “I do, don’t I?”

The laugh he was repressing bursts from his lips anyway. “You’re so shameless.”

“Shameless,” Tim repeats, bemusement evident in the arch of his brow.

Jason rolls his eyes. “Your rut always makes you like this,” he says, reaching up to play with a lock of Tim’s hair, twirling it around his finger before tucking it away behind his ear. “No inhibitions. Totally primal.”

Tim reaches down to tug at Jason’s white hair in kind, pulling at it in a way that intentionally gets on Jason’s nerves, before Jason knocks his hand away irritably. “Are you calling me an animal?” Tim asks.

“That is exactly what I’m calling you.”

Tim hums. “Mm-hm. And what does that make you?”

“A… bitch,” Jason says hesitantly and Tim chokes out a laugh.

“You really have a way with words, don’t you,” he goads. “An animal and a bitch. How romantic.”

“Shut it,” Jason says, feeling his cheeks warm in embarrassment. “I thought that’s what you were getting at.”

 _“You’re_ the one who called me an animal in the first place!”

“Okay, shut up, forget about it,” Jason snaps, but Tim still cackles anyway.

Eventually, Tim’s exertion catches up with him, and he ends up laying down on top of Jason again, nuzzling into his neck. A few minutes pass, Jason spends the time wondering how they’re going to air out the room and get rid of the evidence before Bruce finds out. Tim is in the middle of sighing contentedly when he suddenly freezes.

“What’s wrong?” Jason asks.

“Do you still hate that?”

“Hate what?”

“My sighing.”

“I don’t hate it,” Jason assures him, running his fingers across Tim’s shoulders. “Think I was just annoyed at you trying to get me to come here.”

“I won’t try and pressure you again,” Tim promises, and when Jason grunts dismissively, he becomes upset. “No, really. I was stupid. My reputation doesn’t matter, especially not if it’s only going to hurt you.”

“Well. Thank you, I guess. But, you know, now that I’ve seen what actually goes on at these events, I don’t think I want to let you suffer alone.”

“What?” Tim looks up at him, his eyes bright. “So you’ll come with me next time?”

“Yeah,” Jason says.

“And when people ask why you’re so big?”

“We’ll tell them to fuck off.”

Tim bursts out in laughter. “It sounds so easy when you say it like that.”

“It won’t be easy,” Jason says. “But we’ll figure something out. Something that won’t get you fired or tarnish your reputation as Gotham’s sweetheart.”

“I’m not Gotham’s sweetheart, it was one magazine that wrote that and it never caught on.”

Jason knows for a fact that it did catch on in certain corners of the internet, but he doesn’t say it aloud for fear of upsetting Tim. “But you are such a sweetheart,” he teases, fluttering his eyes.

“Keep that up and they’ll be calling _us_ Gotham’s sweethearts.”

“You’d love that wouldn’t you.”

“No, but you would.”

Jason rolls his eyes, but just as he comes up with a retort, he hears Bruce’s voice in the distance, gradually getting closer. He doesn’t recognise the other voice, but the fact that _anyone_ is coming towards the study while Tim is still stuck inside him is not good at all.

“Did you lock the door?” he whispers urgently.

Tim’s eyes are wide. “No?”

They both stare in horror as the handle turns.

***

Despite a very painful and embarrassing chewing out by an equally as embarrassed and traumatised Bruce, (witnessed by Bruce’s friend from earlier in the day who doesn’t seem all that regretful), they manage to make their way home mostly unscathed, thanks to Alfred.

The next party they attend, they make the most of it, they eat and drink and laugh, and when someone comes up to ask Jason, “Why are you so big?” Jason and Tim tell him kindly to grow up.

There’s an article written the next day about unconventional omegas and mitigating prejudice. The author refers to Tim and Jason as ‘Gotham’s sweethearts’.

Jason definitely does not love it.

(But secretly he does.)

**Author's Note:**

> My [Tumblr](https://jasontttodd.tumblr.com/) | My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/seadreamss/)


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